


tending to these barren plots

by Kheta



Series: please be patient with me [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Parenting, Bittersweet, Break Up, Brief Internalised Homophobia, Cheating, F/F, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Making Up, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kheta/pseuds/Kheta
Summary: Maybe, if Hinata were raised in the type of family where confronting people on their shitty behaviour wasn't explicitly frowned upon, or Naruto stopped to remember that there were two people in a relationship. Maybe if the world hadn't already cracked and disjointed these two beautiful people many years before they ever tried to be together...Maybe in that sort of life things would be easier. But in this life Naruto loves Hinata and Hinata loves Naruto and they both love their children, but love isn't always enough.Or,Naruto is a wonderful Hokage but an absent husband, Hinata is bad with the whole sharing thing and neither are too good with emotions. Their kids, unfortunately are there to see it end.





	tending to these barren plots

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAHAHAHA
> 
> I h8 this. So many different ideas just jumped at me and idek what happened. This whole fic is inspired by Grace Gummer's character in Jenny's Wedding and I have actually been writing it for too long. Sick of it. Try and spot how different my writing gets throughout the duration of this clusterfuck lmao (I legit spent years not knowing where this story was going and who was in it) . Anyway hope you like it and the fifty random ships I throw at you!

 

  1. _How it breaks, but not fully.  
  
_



One day, Hinata is watering her garden outside of her manor when she spies something very disconcerting. Her bonsai was dying.

It was a small, shaky bonsai with short branches that wound out like carefully bent spindles. The leaves had mostly fallen, only a small patch of them still attached to the frail branches. Below the tree was a rotting pile of brown and yellow, flecks of rotted white flowers adorning the dried out soil.

A frown makes its way onto her face.

Hinata remembers this trinket that she had laid on her porch nearly two years ago. When she’d first gotten it as a gift from Shino, she’d tended to it nearly daily. It bloomed beautifully with white blossoms and vivacious green petals. Not a day had passed when she didn’t water it, didn’t trim the leaves and check the soil. So she wonders how she could have forgotten it for so long. 

The soil, crisp and dry beneath her elongated fingers, speak of month’s worth of negligence. Her beautiful blossoms, of which she’d tuck in her daughter’s hair and press gently into the palm of her son’s hands, were decayed. Branches that once housed the brightest, most luscious leaves around, were stiff under her calloused hands.

In her heart, Hinata knows it isn’t a big deal. Knows she could water it right then, could tend to it with care only someone raised around an Aburame or a Yamanaka could ever achieve. Yet still it bothered her.

Bothered her that she had in fact been so careless. That something she loved so much could be twisted and uncared for because of her absent-mind. That something she loves could just morph into something unrecognisable.

As Hinata carefully moves the plant to face the sun, her fingers working to soak the soil generously she thought of her marriage.

It wasn’t often she gave her marriage a second thought, especially one so negative, but the past few years now were leading her marriage into unchartered territory.

Her love for Naruto was still very present, just as it was for her love for her tree. However like the bonsai, it was clear to see that negligence was still floating around. Clear to see in the way they rarely kissed each other, in the way Hinata made a point of not touching Naruto when he was near and he made a point in speaking to anyone but her in public. Things between them were stilted and awkward in an irrational way. The lack of children in their house as of late left her more lonely than ever, and with that loneliness came short, irrational bouts of anger.

But like her precious tree, Hinata would resolve to nurture their marriage more. Smiling at the thought, Hinata quickly performed a sealless earth jutsu and watched as little by little, her bonsai flourished.  
  
Naruto didn’t notice. 

She didn’t know why that seemed so important, but it did.

Hinata had laid her sweet little tree inside where it could still devour the natural rays of sun, yet also be in her family’s line of sight, a cheerful reminder that anything could happen, could heal so long as you put in the time to make it happen. Boruto gave it a curious glance and Himawari a cheeky grin, but neither said a word of it. Naruto walked straight past it as he got home and did the same thing as he left the next morning. How very annoying, she thought.

The eve of their wedding anniversary, more than a decade after their marriage, Naruto doesn’t come to dinner. Boruto and Himawari are resting at Shino’s place for the night, as Naruto had confirmed that very morning that they would have a romantic night in. He’d been very adamant she show up primly, that he’d spoil her silly and not to worry about dinner.

That day she had fluttered around town looking for something nice for Naruto.

Almost as if helping her a chunin swerves into her, when she twirls out of the way she comes face to face with a window, Hinata spots a book quaint in size. Heavy to the feel, with Jiraiya-sama’s name written on it as well. It wasn’t any book she’d seen of his before, looked far more appropriate for a child than a pervert, so she bought it, hefty as the price was considering the author. But, despite her best efforts at dressing up, at buying her husband a considerate gift, at smiling pleasantly, a hollow knot formed in her stomach.

At seven forty-five she returns from Shino’s dressed in a tight, soft white blouse and a long lavender skirt, her shoes still light weight kunoichi wear sandals, a holster to her inner thigh. Prepared for anything, but feeling pretty. It took Hanabi a whole meticulous hour to style her hair in a proper yet elegant bun, their father making a comment on how to better the style. Hinata had never quite had the Hyuuga magic touch with hair. But her family manage to bring her silky locks into a stunning yet simple masterpiece, her newly cut bangs framing her face in a way she hasn’t had the energy to style since before Himawari was born.

Hanabi’s insistence causes her to apply a thin layer of lip gloss, though she forgoes any other makeup.

At eight thirty she re-applies her lip gloss. 

At nine the books come out.

At nine thirty she sighs and calls Shino’s to see how her kids are. He tells her they are asleep, that they had lost much energy when they’d tried to complete his insane genin training requirements, because he wasn’t the most renowned shinobi but there were few more capable than he when it came to training genin. His voice managed to convey a sort of concern few would detect and she rolls her eyes as she begins telling him of Naruto’s failure to appear.

By ten staying in a house too quiet fills her with a morose feeling, so she makes her way leisurely to a training post. It is twelve am before she’s aware of anything again.

Her palms are bleeding, she’s been depleted of much chakra, her chest heaving but the pain and anger stays. Lingers. Festers.

Twelve thirty she begins to make her way home, palms healed, breath short and feeling suddenly too neutral. Too indifferent.

No one greets her except for the bitter call of an empty home.

In the corner of their bedroom, her bonsai looks far too bright for this dreary house. Looking at it makes her feel nothing. She feels nothing, not even as she forces herself to look for Naruto and finds him happily drinking with Sakura and Sasuke.

It’s just– not even worth the effort she thinks eyeing the leaves idly.

 _The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi_ falls from their bedside table and underneath their bed without her noticing.

 

  1. _How to not feel, or of being broken_  




Falling out of love is not a particularly hard task, Hinata muses as she applies for an ANBU screening. It had been too long since she’d been at the field for her to just take the hunter-nin position up thoughtlessly. The last mission she took of any real effort was years ago, though she trained regularly she wasn’t above proper protocol.

It’s a difficult process, mostly because she didn’t bother telling Naruto. Hadn’t really bothered telling him anything of importance since their anniversary nearly two weeks ago.

It’s a good thing she’d once been ANBU however fleeting. He didn’t need to meet with her or discuss her plans with him until it was finalised and she could begin rotation again. Hokage only had to meet new ANBU candidates, former ones could retain their job, under circumstances. The usual, training, tests, psych evaluations, physical conditioning, recommendation letter by a council member, an ANBU leader or one of the four Jonin Approved Sensei. It was pretty easy.

No doubt the training was difficult. She had Shino set up a few conditioning schedules for her, let Lee help her pick out some training weights and durable clothes. Altogether, it felt anti-climatic. How easy it was to distance herself from someone she thought was her world. How suddenly she realised that she was weak, content, bored.

After getting married to Naruto she was still a kunoichi, but she wasn’t stupid enough to not notice how her list of A-rank missions quickly became B-ranks, that bordered the line of C if she was honest. She didn’t mind them.

Didn’t mind giving up anything above a C-rank outside of the village following Boruto’s birth. It was simple to get complacent with life, when she felt loved, noticed, appreciated.

But Boruto and Himawari are both genin, Boruto already training for the next chunin exams. Naruto and her haven’t talked properly in so long she can’t pinpoint a date and Hinata’s sick of being a background figure. Sick of sitting still and being inactive and maybe, if pressed she’d admit, she’s sick of being in the same village as Naruto when she can’t figure out what she feels for him.

Seeing Naruto once filled her with warmth, that spread from her cheeks to her fingertips, reaching her toes. Left her feeling like a trip to the hot pools. Now it just made her feel sick. Toxic. Food twisting wildly in her stomach, waiting to be let out. She hates how looking at him makes her feel. Confused, angry, wild and guilty.

She passes the ANBU screening quickly, throwing herself back into active duty for months just to get the necessary training required. Naruto agrees to her missions, though she gives him little choice, merely walking into his office and announcing her desire to be rostered on properly. He gives an uncertain look and asks if she really wanted this and she nods and he lets her. Lets her don a mask that makes her less human and more weapon. This, this is how she stops loving Naruto, or maybe, it’s when she realises he’s stopped loving her. Either way, this is where they end.

A petal falls from her bonsai tree, tucked in the corner of their room slowly drying out.

* * *

 

A row of three flowers fall from her bonsai and Hinata just feels exhausted.  
  
In this moment, Hinata convinces herself, sitting on her bed crossed leg, to finally, finally leave Naruto.

It’s not even anything to ponder now. They hadn’t said more than five words to each other since she started back on active duty.  She can’t remember the last time they kissed but she doesn’t ever want to touch him again. He makes her so angry and she doesn’t know why.

Maybe it’s because if he sees the state of their crumbling marriage, he’s not mentioned it.

Maybe it’s that she can’t understand why she’s stayed so long and she’s blaming him.

Maybe it’s that her damn bonsai had been in their room for months and. He. Didn’t. Notice. Didn’t say anything about it.

Whatever the case, loving his memories more than him certainly proves how much the two have changed.

So, Hinata gathers the papers she had asked Inu to get drafted up for her, slips her sandals on and marches over to the Hokage tower. Naruto hadn’t made it home before ten in a week, she wouldn’t let another _‘I’m tired’_ phase her out of this decision, not anymore.

The tower is daunting in a way it’s never been before. As its large yellow walls come closer and closer into view Hinata can’t help but feel resigned. She wished Kiba or Shino were here, just so she could lean on them, but she didn’t want others dragged into this. It was a private matter, between her and her husband and no one else.

And of course she thinks looking blandly at Shikamaru, Konohamaru and Sakura, of course Naruto thought otherwise.

The look he was giving her, it was confused yet annoyed, her shoulders tensed at that. She should be annoyed damn it, not him.

“Look Hinata-chan, can we talk about this later? I’m busy,” he utters with a soft smile at her.

Like his smile could placate her.

Oh he infuriated her she thought, barely able to restrain her body language into frigid instead of murderous.

Sakura and Shikamaru share a worried glance and she glares, not quite at the duo or because of them, but because she’s so angry at how neglected she feels. How part of her is hurt, though she’d already settled that she was leaving Naruto. 

“Naruto,” she lets out calm despite her anger, “, I very much would prefer if we have this discussion in private,” her voice becomes bitter near the end, frosty and polite in a way she hadn’t been in years.

Naruto again looks at her, face still so damn happy, though she could see how tense and exhausted he was. How he was lying and tired and oh she hated so badly.

Had he truly thought her so gullible?

“Look darling, either say it in front of our friends or we can discuss it later, promise, I truly am busy at the moment.”

Another smile, worn out but trying to be chipper. Who was he to think he’d deceive a Hyuuga?

Hinata sighs, gently taking the papers from her bag and placing them on the table before him. She seats herself on a free chair as Shikamaru watches her bored, Sakura concerned and Konohamaru just observing her because she was there. Only her and Naruto are sitting, she slides the papers to his left, where he usually put important papers that he’d view later.

Then in a strong voice, devoid of anything, Hinata says, “I want a divorce.”

Four pairs of eyes widen at her, but she sits impassively, legs crossed.

Naruto is stock still for a moment, then he lays down whatever important documents he had and picks up her divorce papers. It states, very clearly, that she doesn’t want anything of his. Shared custody if the children so pleased, but as genin and adults according to village law, they legally could choose to do anything they so pleased.

“I-” He pauses. Shares a look with Shikamaru who can only shrug.

Sakura has become a default supporter of Naruto’s, her hand squeezing his shoulder to steady him. Konohamaru does a good job of being a fly on the wall, looking neither here nor there.

Sakura is the first one to move.

“We’ll be outside if you need us,” she says.

It’s a paltry excuse for privacy now that the trio knew. Most probably they’d listen in, shinobi after all were trained quite literally to have the skills necessary to fulfil their curiosity. Few doors could hold them back if they wanted to know something.

Shikamaru gives a polite nod her way, Sakura a grimace of a smile. Konohamaru half-heartedly pats Naruto’s back, but avoids looking too long at anyone.

Finally it is just them two.

Naruto, lost looking, disorientated.

Her, giving off the emotionless illusion.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

Truth be told neither does she. She wants to scream at him, but looking at his lost demeanour held her back. This wasn’t just about her feeling ignored, it was about him being exhausted because she’s moody and doesn’t know how to tell him, leaving him able to realise she’s angry but not why. It’s about how all she can think about are all the arguments they’ve never had because he hates arguing and she still can’t open up about how she feels.

It’s about how maybe they never really loved each other properly and fell together with affection and respect, yet completely failing at communicating with each other.

“Can you tell me why?” He implores after a too long pause.

She opens her mouth, voice suddenly abandoning her. Gulping, she looks into his eyes.

They’re beautiful, no matter how infuriated they make her.

“I don’t love you anymore.”

She winces at how that sounds, guilt hitting her as hurt flickered through his eyes.

“Is- Is there someone else? Am I making you unhappy-” he pauses a guttural sound leaving his throat and his eyes steadily becoming more hysterical, “- What does I don’t love you anymore even mean!?"

He looks around, one arm gripping the ridge between his shoulder and his prosthetic. Part of her is regretful, the part of her that grew with him and knew how to read his cues. Most of her is past the point of caring anymore.

There’s obviously no one else, even as irrational as he is he must understand that, because he goes quiet after a while.

Hinata fingers her braid, contemplating a way to soften the blow and finding none.

“I just, I don’t love you anymore. The sight of you leaves me exhausted and I’m sick of just coping with it. You’re obviously as unhappy as me and I’m tired of ignoring this, so I think we should go our separate ways.”

The answer obviously doesn’t satisfy him.

“And who are you to judge my happiness!? I don’t get this Hinata, I thought we were stable, I thought-”

She cuts in angrily, “I’m your wife and unlike you I actually watch what happens to my spouse Naruto! If you were happy at all then it probably wouldn’t come to this but no! You! Ugh- you try and hide behind this happy facade-

“I try and hide!?” He interrupts, “What about you? You didn’t even tell me you wanted ANBU approval until you were ready to be rostered, you didn’t tell me you were feeling unhappy until you wanted a divorce, heck you didn’t even tell me you liked me until it suited you!”

They shouldn’t be yelling here, it’s unbecoming of a Hyuuga and the Hokage but the two are both wound tight with hurt and all the could have been arguments unfold. Her voice rises to meet his.

“Oh right, blame me! Fine, be like that, I’ll stop hiding, I’ll stop hiding all my feelings right now! I am angry Naruto, so angry it _hurts! I hate feeling like this!_ ”

He cuts in, voice accusatory.

“Yeah I do blame you! I blame you for always trying to tiptoe around me, dammit Hinata I’m your husband, you should tell me stuff like this before it escalates to this point!”

Hinata scoffs.

“When should I do that Naruto? At five am when you’re out training without me? Or six when you’re in the office? How about eleven o’clock at night when you’re out drinking with your team members!? I sure have ample time to talk to you without you being “tired” or “drained” don’t I!?”

“If you’d just ask me to listen I would have!”

“Oh of course you’d listen, but would you remember any of it? Dammit Naruto.... If I hadn’t brought this up in your office with your friends around would you have even cared?” Her voice is defeated in the end.

A dark glower covers his face as he stands to look down at her, she puts her red face in her calloused palms.

“What do you mean would I have even cared?”

She looks up, exhausted again.

“I mean, it feels like I could leave your life completely and it wouldn’t matter….” She’s been silent for so long, her tongue can’t seem to stop. It needs to hurt him and she doesn’t know why but she hates him in this moment.

“It means I’ve been distancing myself from you for months and you didn’t care Naruto. It doesn’t matter why we’re like this, so distant, not anymore. All that matters is, I’m sick of being second fiddle compared to the rest of the world.”

His eyes widen, fist curling.

Naruto, for all he is a wonderful Kage and a beautiful person, is still angry. Still holds traces of stubbornness from his childhood he couldn’t let go of, of a lonely child who cried and screamed and yearned but never got.

“So you want me to give up being a Hokage? Give up my dream because you feel neglected?”

A punch would have affected her less.

She draws in a sharp breath, eyes deathly vacant.

Without a word she stands, turns and lets a breath out. When she faces him this time, she is composed and emotionless once again.

“You know what I give up, just sign the papers, I’ll be with the Hyuuga clan in the meantime.”

At the door she pauses, feeling his eyes still on her straight back, fingers clenched around the door knob.

“For the record,” she hisses out, soft maybe, but definitely hurt, “, I never wanted you to give up your dream. I understood being second to the village, but it’s really shitty when you put drinking with your friends as more of a priority than celebrating our marriage anniversary.”

  
The door clicks shut quietly as she leaves.  
 

He doesn’t follow and it enrages her how disappointed that leaves her feeling.  


  1. _How rain falls,_ _  
  
_



The house is empty of sound when Himawari gets back, not of course the oddest occurrence considering how busy Mama and Boruto had been as of late. 

She walks through the house when a pulse rattles her. Even for someone with the byakugan, Himawari’s always had keen senses. Has always been able to feel chakra more clearly than most people, the pulse is familiar. Warm, like a fire, but also hot, like the fire had been lit for too long and there remained no cold to hide from. Papa’s chakra signature had always been a confusing mix of oppressing and obscure, kind of like his presence, he was there even when he wasn’t.

Frowning, she makes her way to the living room and pauses. Papa feels sad.

If she could actually feel sadness she imagined it to be like this weight. It was heavier than a kunai, more present. A feeling able to sink into bones, like having an arm numbed by the byakugan.

Himawari knows the feeling well, how her arm seems to sway yet sink, unable to move how she wanted, how her arm felt like it was pulling her to the ground. That’s what this feels like.

Like the ground is calling for her, except its not calling for her, its calling for Papa and she doesn’t know why.

Her throat feels tight. Himawari’s been a genin for a year now and she’s heard stories. About how quickly a mission could go wrong and all she can think is, Papa’s home.

Papa is home, it’s before five at night and Mama’s not here.

Mama’s not cooking. Boruto’s not studying with scrolls littered around him.

Papa is _here_ and she doesn’t know where anyone else is but she hopes, she hopes they are safe because she’s heard stories.

“Papa?” It’s a breathy whisper, she walks to him.

He looks up as if he hadn’t known she was home, which is stupid because Papa usually knows everything.

He’s been crying, she thinks.

Face streaked with dried tears and eyes red. Things come together a bit slowly as her sight widens, tunnel vision vanishing.

There’s a picture clutched in his hands, of his and Mama’s first date. In front of him on the table is one of Mama’s jackets, she hasn’t seen it in a while, it’s impractical for an active ninja. Next to that is a cup of half eaten ramen and scattered on the floor are papers.

Papa smiles at her, small and broken.

“What- what happened?” Her voice wobbles.

His smile pulls visibly tighter as he sits straight and wipes his face. Standing, Papa pulls her in a hug.

He holds her like he’s never held her before. Or in the least, holds her in a way she’s never remembered feeling before. Like she is a child and she is, but she is not as fragile as his hold implies. Something about this seems to freeze her, she can’t feel the warmth his hugs usually hold. It feels too much like the hugs people give when she used to cry, like they could comfort her with their touch but Himawari doesn’t want comfort. She just wants to know what’s going on.

“Welcome home my beautiful daughter, how was your vacation?”

“Fun,” she replies, “Kazekage-sama sends his regards.”

Again he gives her that hollow smile, one she hadn’t remembered seeing before today. Part of her wishes that because he hasn’t mentioned it yet, the _‘d’_ word, that nothing’s really wrong. Maybe Ichiraku’s stall was accidentally destroyed by Chouchou and her mum again. It sounds like a stupid reason to cry so hard, but surely for someone as obsessed as Papa, it’s not unreasonable...Right?

A sudden shake interrupts her as Papa slowly leads her to the couch, sitting her down and looking at her with a different smile. A sad smile, but less hollow and tight.

“I– I didn’t expect you home so soon, your mother and I were supposed to talk to you, together.”

Her heart lifts at that, a hint that Mama’s okay...But then, because she’s heard stories before she thinks of Boruto and suddenly she feels sick. Once again, her heart hopes for the best.

“There’s no other way to say this, but spitting it out I guess,” say what? She thinks anxiously.

“Your mother and I, we’re getting a divorce.”

It’s funny, Himawari thinks as the words register, how even when flooded with relief she could feel her world fall apart. She thinks of the photo and the jacket and Papa’s red eyes and anger spikes in her veins. Himawari thinks of nights where Boruto’s cooked dinner because Mama’s been on missions and how often they’ve had to stay with Auntie Hanabi and Gramps and Shino-sensei and she thinks how dare this happen? How dare Mama leave them? Because Papa’s crying and obviously he didn’t want this and Mama is not here and all she says is “Oh.”

Then, because Himawari’s been gone for two weeks and hasn’t had real time with Papa since he started being Hokage, she takes her jacket off, thrown on the arm of the couch and jumps until she laid all but in her Papa’s lap.

Head tucked into his thigh, she looks up at Papa and turns, feeling suddenly younger than her eleven years. His top smells like dirt and paper and flowers and she clings onto the smell, hands clutching the black cloth.

“Stay?” She asks.

It’s a wishful thing. Papa might be home now, but he’s probably too busy like always and–

“Of course,” he replies.

Looking up, she sees his sad, blue eyes mirroring how confused she feels and Himawari’s always, always loved her mother but right now. Right now, she hates her with every fiber in her being.  


* * *

Boruto gets back from his mission two days later to the sorrowful glances of everyone. It pisses him off. No one is subtle as they stare at him and he drags himself up, standing proudly behind Inojin, Sarada trailing behind them. His leer is smug as he glances at all the staring passer byers, they probably thought he’d failed. Well, jokes on them. His first mission without a jounin sensei and they kicked butt.

Figuratively.

It was just a delivery mission, but they managed to get the stupid rice to the small village south of Konoha just fine. No one was maimed and he didn’t even fight anyone once, except for Inojin who pissed him off. Otherwise he was the perfect genin, listening to the knowitall Inojin even though he was smarter than him.

Irked, he’s already in a bad mood when Konohamaru-sensei pulls him up before their mission briefing.

“What is it? I’m fine, we completed the mission fine,” he grouched out bitter.

Konohamaru-sensei says nothing, patting his shoulder before bending down to his height. The reminder is unnecessary and annoying, he’d always been short even for his age.

“Look brat, your dad’s gonna want to talk to you after the briefing. Whatever your reaction to the news is, just keep an open-mind and try and be calm okay? Things are tough for him right now, so be nice.”

“Whaddaya mean?” His curiosity peaked.

Sensei says nothing, just standing him up and sending him off with another firm shoulder pat.

“Oh and Boruto?” He says a when he’s nearly rounded a corner.

“Hmm?”

Sensei smiles at him and he feels his shoulders untense, the smile familiar and gentle, not with the underlying hint of whatever that had lingered around most others today.

“If you need to talk, I’m always here. I’ll always be your Sensei first, but Nii-chan can always make an appearance or two.”

Nodding at the odd behaviour, Boruto hastens until he reaches his father’s office, grin sheepish in front of Inojin’s stressed glare and Sarada’s Sarada-glare. Since its their first mission outside of the village under a newly promoted chunnin, they have to make a good impression during this debriefing if Inojin wanted a chance of leading any other missions for the rest of the year. The pressure was oddly reassuring, another goal to smash.

“Come in,” a voice says after Inojin’s customary knock.

Boruto makes sure his face is attentive even as he surveys The Panel, with boredom.

Being such an avid studier, kudos to his mother, Boruto knew that this was a carefully formulated array of Jounin. Sai-san was there, surprising considering most documents refused family, friends and sensei’s on any screening panel. They’d show a bias one way or another, be too scared and keep a capable shinobi in the village. Be too proud and let an untrained shinobi out on the field.

Besides Sai-san was Tamaki-san, her eyes strangely blank. Boruto’s never seen her beyond the gate duties, but she looks different now. Cold and efficient where he usually saw her only warm and open.

Udon-nii sat beside her. He’d never been trained by him, and even with Denki, Metal and Iwabee as some of his close friends he still hasn’t got a clue on how Udon-nii fights. With the lack of knowledge Boruto can only assume he is an able Jounin, but still he can’t help but compare Udon-nii to the able shinobi and kunoichi around him. In comparison, he looked out of place, seeming to fade into the background.

Next was his dad, hands covering his mouth to mask any reaction as Inojin recited a quick, but thorough run through of the mission. The last person was a stranger, meaning a very covert jounin, possibly an ex-anbu, but to be assumed jounin until otherwise confirmed.

Her hair was brunette and she looked like the typical Inuzuka, but more quiet and withdrawn. Even her presences lacked the vibrancy a typical Inuzuka held. This person too, he filed away for further reflection.

Boruto’s been raised to be particular, to note discrepancies. It’s a Hyuuga thing, for all he’s not a Hyuuga he was raised as one. Shortly thereafter his Uzumaki-genes kicked in, because he slid back into a casual stance, mind wandering further and further away.

Everything is routine he notes without actually noting, right to the predicted, “Boruto,” that Konohamaru-sensei had said was coming. It startles him from his reverie, eyes sliding to where his dad sits.

Interestingly enough, the call manages to make Shikamaru-san tense and his dad’s secretary to look sadly in his direction. Weird.

“Stay here for ten more minutes, your mother’s coming over to talk.”

Boruto brightens at that, “Kaa-chan’s back? Score, do you think she’ll make ramen for dinner?”

Dad tenses, which is suspicious but he’s not seen mum in a far longer while than the last time he’d seen dad. He misses her cooking almost as much as he misses her.

“You’ll have to ask her,” he rasps out.

Boruto nods, bouncing on his toes and deciding to hop on dad’s desk while he pulls out his cellphone. Dad clears his throat in his serious, ‘let’s talk’ mode and he sighed, looking up.

There’s something fishy in dad’s gaze that makes his look of impatience turn to curiosity. He lowers the cell phone.

“Er- how you been old man?” The sentence is out of place and awkward.

They don’t do small talk. They yell at each other or stare in silence but they don’t chat.

Mirroring his attitude, dad chuckles nervously, arm behind his head, “Good, I guess. Your sister and I went fishing yesterday. It was a little boring, but I had fun.”

He nods like he cares, which he doesn’t, then his brain switches up and he frowns, “Fishing? How’d you fit that in?”

It’s said with the distinct inflection of derisive snort meets disbelieving sneer, but dad doesn’t scold him or roll his eyes, no he flinches. He flinches. Full Body, clearly visible, unequivocally flinches. As if the same careless jabs he’d been throwing at his father since his inauguration were something he’d suddenly decided to care about. What the hell’s going on, decided Boruto, definitely suspicious of his father now.

Dad stutters–Stutters out! “I-I’ve been taking things easy lately, less hours here and more at home.”

A blonde brow raises as Boruto nods, face calculating, “Oh. Good on you.”

Another nervous round of chuckles, “I-in fact, I’ve been thinking maybe we could do a family holiday. It’s been awhile since we’ve done something as a family, you, me, your sister.”

Dad definitely fucked up, decided Boruto. And, ever the defensive teen, Boruto replies with, “Yeah, whose fault was that?”

The only reply is another wince and Boruto decides to take pity on his father. Much as he loathes to admit it, this guy was one of his most important people’s. Plus for someone so brilliant, dad tended to miss things, most of the serious talk nature, especially things concerning his son.

“Look,” he begins intentionally teasing and conceited, “, obviously you’ve done something you think me, Kaa and Himawari should be worried about... _So_ , I’ll spare you the nervousness if you tell me what’s up and together, we can convince Kaa and Himawari not to worry, hah?”

“Actually I haven’t done something. Your Mother has,” the old man clenches his fist at the declaration.

Boruto ponders what this sentence means, but a familiar voice interrupts with an unfamiliar sarcastic drawl.

“Always one to take responsibility where it’s due, weren’t you, Naruto-kun?”

A sudden frost assaults the room and Boruto looks from his mother to his father, apprehensive.

Mum’s sugary tone was lessened by the fact that her face held no emotion, eyes boring into dad. Dad stared back lost and angry and Boruto sat in middle, unsure of what was happening.

Glossing over dad, Mum’s gaze shifts to him and softens, she opens her arms and on instinct he runs, a pleasant smile on his face.

“Hi Kaa, I’m home,” he shouts happily.

“Welcome back Boruto, how have you been?” She lifts her arms to his shoulder and squeezes tightly, smile soft in his hair.

He replies with equal pleasantries and then shifts back to his spot next to dad, mum trailing behind him.

Then, his parents just stare at each other. Which is weird, but not in the way it usually is when he thinks it’s gross that they ogle each other. It’s not that intense, heated love they used to share. No, he can feel it’s different, but can’t understand what the _different_ is exactly. Has never felt _this_ from his parents before.

Even with mum being on duty and dad being Hokage, they’ve not once stared at each other likes this. His stomach rolls and he hates this, whatever it is.

Dad breaks the silence by clapping his shoulder and announcing with a rather fake, crooked grin, “Son, things have changed a little since you left. Your mother now resides at the Hyuuga complex and for now, your sister and I are at home.”

Boruto opens his mouth, 300 shades of confused, but mum takes over the conversation from where dad had finished.

“It’s for the better this way, Boruto...Your father and I are no longer together, but we both love you very dearly and don’t want you to feel like you have to choose a place to live. If you want to stay at home, then you can and no one would mind in the least. If not, the manor will always be happy to have you.”

Again Boruto does not know what the heck is going on here. This isn’t an ‘I’ll-spin-this-to-our-advantage’ type of situation, it is very much a set in stone ‘This-is-how-it-will be-from-now-on’ kind of thing and he does not like this. Kaa had raised him to be smart and to always try and be in control of different situations, but in this he feels very much out of control and it– it burns.

This, this can’t be happening.

He gulps.

Looks down.

Thinks of Sensei’s weird conversation and all the pitying glances and this is no joke. No one would suddenly shout ‘SURPRISE’ at him, no one would laugh at his devastated face.

Another gulp and– “What?”

Dad answers, holding his shoulder so tight Boruto ought to feel it, but he doesn’t.

“Things haven’t been working out well lately so...I’ve agreed with Hinata and we’re getting a divorce.”

A divorce?

“What! What the hell do you mean a divorce!?! Mum, please explain to me what’s happening!” His voice hitches, frustrated, hysteric perhaps.  
  
Mum looks at dad and steps forward, hand on his other shoulder.

“Can I speak to him alone?” The question is soft, not just the polite civil-ness she’d been using to regard dad with as of late.

Dad’s only answer is to vanish from sight, mum then takes him by the elbow and leads him to an empty seat. Pulling another chair, she sits before him and holds his hands, fingers moving to caress his cheek.

Boruto says nothing, curious, angry, sad.

“Boruto, you are a smart boy and I know that you’ve noticed how tense things at home have been when I am around your father. I also know that you have a tendency to disregard the things you notice when they don’t match how you see the world, so all I can tell you that you should and will come to believe is that no matter what’s happening between your father and I, we will always love you. You and Himawari mean the world to us.”

Clenching his fist, Boruto gazes into his mother’s eyes and lets out a soft whine, “That doesn’t answer the question mum, what do you mean you’re getting a divorce?”

Fingers trailing down, mum rubs her thumb in an affectionate, circular motion around his chin.

“It means that things have changed. That your father and I are not who we were when we married– Or maybe we are, but our love is definitely not what it was. And I couldn’t keep pretending, so if you want to be angry son, blame me. I’m the one who filed for divorce, I’m the one who has shamed this family.”

“If you’re the one who filed for divorce, then he’s the one to blame. He’s had to have done something for you to do something so drastic, you can’t have just decided to leave him–” he attempts to rationalise.

Mum nods, hands lowering to her lap.

“You’re right, I did not just decide to leave your father. It tooks months, maybe even years for it to reach this point, but no matter how you view it son, I left your father. Not because he did something to warrant me divorcing him, but because I fell out of love with your father a long while ago.”

His breath hitches, “Y-you don’t love him anymore?”

Mum nods and Boruto looks up, unsure of how he should react.

Does he lash out, with the anger he feels tightly coiled around his stomach? Or does he cry with the grief weighing down his lungs? Smile crookedly and bury all negative emotions below his heart, where no one could comment on them?

Looking up, into mum’s eyes, he can’t quite detect what mum’s feeling. She’s loads better at reading and hiding emotion than anyone he knows.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

She nods determinedly, “You can stay with me whenever you want son.”

He nods and then tries to smile, though its more of a watery lift of his lips.

“Inojin, Sarada and I completed our first mission without a Jounin...Do you think we could have your ramen tonight, to celebrate?”

Again a fervent nod, “Of course, did you want to head back with me now or– Will you go get your friends first?”

“I’ll be by later, that okay?”

A nod of confirmation and then— Mum leans forward and pressed a tender kiss just below his hitai-ate.

* * *

He cries.

He honest to the Kage-post cries in the most empty bathroom stall he can find. He doesn’t know why. But he can’t stop, sobs wracking his body. It’s a desolate feeling. Empty. Wringed out. It’s just– Now that his Mother’s laid it out in the open, he’s seeing all the fractures in his parents relationship and this feels like the final nail in the coffin.

It takes a long while for the sobs to die down, even longer for his reflection to look presentable through the dark screen of his cell phone.

When he’s done, he looks for his friends. They sit together with varying blushes on their faces as he strolls to them, casually lifting a spoon from the table and taking a mouthful of sweet, chilled ice cream. The one sunday is packed with cotton candy and strawberry sauce, Inojin fuming at him privately. Much as he tried to act otherwise, his crush on Sarada was becoming fairly obvious to many people now, even Chouchou had caught on to Inojin’s feelings and she’s always been a bit too self-centered to be observant. 

“Yo!”

Instead of hitting him like he obviously wants to, Inojin glares, “What did Hokage-sama want?” 

Boruto can’t hold the wince at that, eyes falling to the spoon in his hand intently. “Oh just a talk...Nothing like dangerous but, him and Kaa have split up yeah,” it’s a casual sentence, for all it gapes at wounds he has no idea how to heal.

“Split up?” Sarada wonders with disbelief tinting her sharp eyes.

He nods, picking at another random scoop of ice cream, “Yup. Wanted me to know. They’re not living together or anything anymore.”

Again they look stunned, slowly but surely looking away from him as to gather their thoughts. Like _their_ worlds were drastically different, he thought with a bitter snort.

“Oh are you okay Boruto?” Inojin asks after too long, because Sarada doesn’t touch emotions that aren’t inherently angry with a ten foot pole.

“Yeah I’m fine, che, who even wants that stupid old man around, right?” He says, but his heart is saying I do! I do! I want that stupid old man around please!

If either of his friends notice anything in his face, they said nothing. He’s kinda glad Mitsuki’s been away with his parent for a few months, because that bastard would have called him out instantly.

Continuing despite the obvious ache in his heart he manages to ask around a third spoonful, “Dinner at the Hyuuga Manor tonight? Kaa’s cooking her ramen.”

“Umm, are you sure that’s alright?” Inojin wonders aloud, which promptly reminded him that Inojin hasn’t had any of his Mum’s ramen before.

Sarada looks half-way between saying yes, probably because of how awesome of a chef his Mum is, but she pauses for an unknown reason.

“Come on! We just kicked ass on our latest mission, celebratory dinner right? Yes or no?"

Obviously Sarada caves first, her eyes far away in a familiar gleam that he recognises intimately. Mum’s just that good of a cook, he thinks as Sarada pushes a blush down and replies with a nonchalant “Yeah whatever.”

Boruto waggles his brows at Inojin, who quickly agrees, an angry blush covering his face as he snatches the spoon Boruto still held an entirely pleased ‘Can’t spoil dinner then, Boruto!’ leaving him.

Nodding at the obvious cue to leave, Boruto finds himself wandering to a familiar training ground.

Away from his friends and the strain to act happy, Boruto brooded quietly. It’s different, he’s usually  loudest with his displeasure but at the moment, he can’t find a blame for the displeasure so it leaves him feeling filled with contempt and empty at the same time.

It’s easy he thinks, to be disappointed in Dad. Years of half-assed promises leaving him perpetually angry at the old man. But anger at his mum is weird, something he usually only feels when Mum is so closely linked with Dad, when they as a unit refuse to listen to him. Now, his anger at his mother gnaws at him. How could she? 

For years she had preached the _your father loves you, be patient_ card. Had dismissed his hurt at his father and now that it was her who was angry, her who didn’t want to deal with the old man, it’s okay to leave? Boruto had argued until he was blue in the face with his mother about how little dad seemed to care, but back then it was always, always, _be patient Boruto, your father isn’t the smartest person for all he is brilliant_. Now she had realised and she could just up and leave him? It’s hypocritical and Boruto doesn’t want to cry, but he thinks of the first time both his parents took him training at these very grounds. Thinks of them praising him, teaching him and he doesn’t know how that became this. Became him sitting alone almost crying over a marriage he had hated for years.

Yeah he wanted his dad home more often, wanted his father to appreciate his mother for everything she did for him. Had wanted his mum to leave as soon as he’d found her bent over the kitchen sink, crying silent tears as his father half-assed all of his promises. And yet, there’s always that careful for what you wish for thing, right? Now that mum had left dad, he just wanted them to go back to how they were when he was five, before dad’s inauguration. When it was just them four, the shining sun and never-ending smiles. And he sits there crying like a fucking baby until the sun goes down.

* * *

Himawari hasn’t talked to her mother since she got back nearly five days ago. Doesn’t trust herself to be around her mum without spitting out violent, regretful words. It’s taken Papa time to coax her out of the hate she feels at her mother for splitting their family apart. He’d carefully, concisely told Himawari how much her mother still loved her. Had been adamant that Himawari visiting her mother isn’t a bad, awful idea though it still fills her with such negative feelings.

For five days, she had been adjusting and while she hated her mother leaving them, she had slowly but surely been accepting it. It’s kinda weird, but Papa had been patient and around throughout the past few days. He couldn’t cook many dishes, but she couldn’t help but grin when they cooked together. Part of her was sad, that she was as close to Papa as she had always wanted, but it came at the price of Mama. But then, part of her was happy to just have her father around again. She was so close to forgiving her mother.

Then she found Boruto crying and any forgiveness she had vanished.

Boruto as a rule never cried. Not when Papa forgets his birthday, or when mum has to push his shoulder back into place. Through every injury he might sniffle, or frown, or grind his teeth but he never cried. And she didn’t know how, but seeing him cry she couldn’t help but feel like this was all her mother’s fault.

Angry, hurt and with tears brimming her eyes, Himawari pulls her cell phone from her holster and messages her mother.

‘I HATE YOU! never talk to me again.’

She doesn’t regret the message, can feel only distinct satisfaction at it, even as Mama sends back a lone ‘Forgive me, I love you.’

Himawari has never been a hateful child. Today, she hates.

 

_4 . How it heals, except slowly._

Naruto has always loved to garden, as a child none of his plants had the time to sprout before being wrecked by some vengeful villager. So he had tabled the dream of creating his own garden for when he grew, when he was Hokage and able to tend to it with the peace of mind that no one would dare disturb the Hokage’s garden.

At 20 he was blessed with his first child and blessed that child with a small cabbage patch right outside their little apartment home. They ate cabbage throughout the whole summer season and right until autumn they eat everything with a side of cabbage. When Himawari is born he relents to Sasuke’s subtle needling and plants a row of tomato shrubs and some spring onions, simple vegetable in their makeshift garden.

It is not the largest garden, but it survives right until they finally move to the Hokage’s mansion, him a mere year away from inauguration. Together he and Hinata sow the roots of their former plants in the garden, add some watermelon because it is summer and the seeds are readily available. Himawari and Boruto play under a sprinkle of water from the hose, laughing brightly.

At twenty three he had made a promise to do right by his family, to retire as the best Hokage ever and live each day with that same happiness, that same pride in his heart.

With the finalisation of their divorce a mere week away, Naruto looks at the weeds and rotted plants in the large square he had sectioned off as a their garden. Thinking back on it, Naruto had given up on this garden three years into his Hokageship, when his time became too sparse. He wonders, how long did Hinata keep tending to this garden after he had stopped caring altogether. The fact that there remained even a shadow of plants left was proof enough that she had cared for it years after he had stopped.

Shaking his head, Naruto unclasped his robe and folded it. He rolled his pant sleeves up until they reached his knees and walked to the tool shed near the porch. Naruto had a whole arsenal of short-cut jutsus and chakra he could use, but still he pulled a shovel and some dusty gloves from the shed.

He missed gardening.  


* * *

Boruto lives between houses, becomes accustomed to cooking with both his parents no matter how weird it feels. The old man cooks ramen by the boatload, but never seems too impressed by the end result. Can only enjoy it properly when he or Himawari make it. Mama bakes. A lot. Cakes, biscuits, chocolates and cinnamon rolls. She never cooks ramen by her own violation, only ever does it when he asks. Himawari never visits Kaa-chan, never talks about her unless it is to say something angry. In the seven months that have passed, Boruto has adapted to a new normal. 

When he’s at home, Boruto loves cooking grilled salmon and grilled vegetable salad, the veggies fresh from their garden. There’s a certain gleam of pride in his father’s eye when they wash and prepare the garden vegetables. A bright grin that is rarely present just gleaming on his face.

At the Hyuuga manor his dish of choice is ochazuke. Before this new normal, he had never known the comforts of tea, but in the presence of his Hyuuga family, having tea together is the most relaxing, visibly unwinding time of the day. He likes seeing his high-strung, fussy big sis at peace with the world and his ever-moving, ever-doting grandfather still, regal like old family pictures painted him to be; finally he loves seeing the old, nostalgic smile cover his Kaa-chan’s face.

Alone, Boruto indulges in the comfort of training himself to exhaustion. Lets his bruised and battered body, his drooping eyes and tired, frazzled brain take the brunt of all the _angrysadconfused_ things he feels.

Konohamaru-sensei can’t talk to him, loves Hinata and Naruto too much to bad mouth either, so instead remains as silent as Himawari about the divorce. His friends don’t talk to him much anymore, they have been drifting since becoming genin and it doesn’t hurt, not really. He knows that none of them except maybe Sarada know how to deal with the split up parents thing. Knows that Sarada can’t talk to him about that because she’s a special brand of socially awkward. He misses Mitsuki, has missed him for months, even the messages they exchange more honest, more detailed than he’s ever been, does little to cure him of the ever-present pain and confusion he feels.

Boruto loves cooking grilled salmon with his father and Hima, loves having tea with Hanabi-nee-chan, Konohamaru-sensei, Gramps and Kaa-chan, loves feeling exhausted and drained and hungry. But sometimes he would love it more if just once, they could cook dinner and drink tea and laugh together. It’s a futile wish, so instead he trains.

* * *

In a divorce, even if you don’t want to, you end up picking a side. Even if you’re best friends with both people, you pick a side.

For Hinata and Team 8 she knew there was no option.

The rest of their gifted, legendary year had moved towards Naruto. Had heard whispers of Hinata ending the marriage, seen the cold glares she mustered for her ex-husband and the broken way Naruto stumbled through life after the divorce. They had not witnessed her hurt silently for many years, not seen her cry though she tried not to, had not had to pick her battered body from the ground as she once again trained herself to exhaustion. They were not there when the hurt she had buried had come to the surface violently. Only Shino and Kiba had been privy to the whole of that nightmare and so, only they had stayed with her fully to the end of the tumultuous marriage.

It is because of this dedication, this loyalty then, that they are there to see Hinata as she continues breaking, even with her marriage far behind them.

“She hates me Shino, eight months and my daughter can’t even look me in the eye! She is disgusted with me and what can I say? How do I justify breaking apart her world? What can I say to fix that?”

Kiba brings over a plate of cinnamon rolls, specially kept stacked in the cupboard for her. Akamaru does not whimper or yip, merely nuzzles Hinata’s bare leg.

Shino glances to Kiba, while he had always been the logical one, Kiba had managed to trump his logic with emotion more than once in the past. Kiba lays a comforting hand on his thigh, ceasing the activities of his hive as he pumps a slow, calming pulse of chakra into their chaotic system. However much control he had over them now, Kiba knew him and his hive too well.

“I’m not sure you can do anything for Hima until you can process what’s happening, I don’t know if you’ve realised it but you’ve left Naruto. And I know he hasn’t made you truly happy in years, but can you honestly say you know why you left? It just seems so sudden, so until you can offer yourself a solid reason, I don’t think you should try and offer Himawari one.”

She pulls a face like she’s offended Kiba would suggest she would do something as drastic as leave the once love of her life without knowing why, but when she looks to Shino for support he shakes his head, eyes unseen and mouth set in a frown that only says he is not happy with her.

Sighing, Hinata looks down. She can’t say she knows where and why it went wrong, just that it felt sudden and oppressively wrong for so long and she couldn’t stay. Couldn’t even dream of it. Even for her son, even for her daughter she could not stay.

* * *

Himawari doesn’t have many friends, not to say she hasn’t any, just that, most of her friends were her brothers first. Even Denki, for all he has become her number one confidant and research partner, is still her brother’s friend first.

Metal, her one friend that understands and hypes her every feeling and the only person she could talk gaming with other than her idiotic, know-it-all brother, is the only friend of hers who wasn’t Boruto’s friend first, but still he remained Boruto’s friend. She never used to separate the two entities, her friends, Boruto’s. Once upon a time they had all been their friends. That had come before, before her brother graduated and their friends suddenly became Metal and Denki, the only two people who would willingly seek her out in between missions and training.

Even Sarada and Sumire, for all she worshipped the two at a time, are too absorbed in their own training to entertain Himawari. Like her brother before her, and her father before him, Himawari takes to pranking to alleviate her boredom and anger at the world at large.

She hangs the bras her mother left at home on the poles of the market streets, lets rigged flour bombs dirty chunin who talk about her broken family in up-nosed sneers. Her jounin teacher who has only ever thought Hinawari a spoilt brat, who has failed his student in many ways, he is often the victim of many tripping wires. Himawari can't say she’s angry, not really, it’s just that she feels so annoyed at everyone and it becomes a bit much at times so. Pranks.

* * *

Naruto gardens every morning, once he used to wake at five am and be in his office by half past. Now he indulges in the free time Shika’s carefully organised. Does not leave for the office until the kids are up and have eaten something for breakfast, lets a clone worry about cooking while he tends to the roots of strong tomato vines.

Sasuke bugs him each time he is back in the village, hovers until Naruto caves and swiftly cuts one large tomato from the vines for him. Sakura passes by, for the past three months she has brought large bags of Yamanaka soil with her on the first of each month. At times she brings foods and stops to talk to him about herbs he could benefit from growing. Sai, careful as always avoids hanging around for long, but leaves small reminder notes for him to drink water and look after his skin. Unfortunate self-care tips he had lived by since early on in his and Ino’s relationship. 

It’s decidedly odd, having his friends back in his life after the rift that had caused two of the longest, most dysfunctional relationships he had ever known to unofficially end things. Sai still can’t hang around if Sakura is present, Sakura still can’t do anything but resent Sasuke and Sasuke still hates himself like it’s a race he can’t afford to lose. But Sai actually shows his face these days and talks, for more than work-related purposes. And he doesn’t hide the hurt Ino or Sakura caused him by actually hiding away, lets his anger show in a way fifteen year old him would never had been able to. Sakura actually remembers that Sasuke is really fucking weird about most things these days, so she doesn’t force herself around him just to exchange heated barbs and cold jabs about the shinobi they had once been. It’s a growth he would never have expected, he had grown used to Team 7 being fractured a long, long time ago, before love had ever complicated the game.

Feeling wistful one day, remembering all the early years of Team 7 and the post war days that had felt like glory at the time, Naruto lets loose and talks to Sasuke.

Sasuke’s in the village to ‘stack up on supplies’ which is code for check up on his daughter’s life. In a gap of silence after many prodding questions about ‘Team Konohamaru’s’ progress, Naruto brings up the one topic Sasuke usually shuts down.

“Why’d you end things with Sakura? Like I get how bad things got, I do...But like what made you end it, after putting up with everything for nearly 13 years? I know the cheating thing like cinched it, but I also know there’s more to it. I mean you guys are my best friends, of course I know.”

Sasuke glares at him, prepared to sew his lips shut if the twitching of his mouth was of any indication. He answers in the same, short sentences he’s always used.

“I didn’t love Sakura.”

 _Didn't_ love. The words struck him in their familiarity, ‘I don’t love you anymore’ echoing around his office door.

“What does that mean?” He grumbles pulling a whole row of weeds from the garden, “How can you love someone then just, don’t? How does that even work, isn’t the whole meaning of love is that it’s a forever type thing?”

Sasuke shakes his head immediately, “You’re wrong. I never loved her.”

“So what you married her, had a child with her and built her a home for what? Nothing? Cause you were bored.”

With clenched fist Sasuke gives Naruto the patent look of ‘just-understand-what-I-mean-you-idiot.’ As if Sasuke-speech wasn’t the most confusing, least expressive language in the world.

“Sakura loved me, I didn’t love her. I tried to and when that didn’t work I gave her a baby and a house. But not love. She wanted someone to hold her and to be held by, wanted to kiss. Wanted to raise a family with. I wanted my friend happy. Thought I could be happy too. Was a stupid way to do things though.”

“How can you do that though? Be unhappy? Convince yourself you are happy? Fall out of love? None of that makes sense,” he’s accidentally flung his gloved hand too hard, so one of the tomatoes would probably bruise tomorrow.

Sasuke bends, plucking the soon to bruise tomato with swift, but not forceful strength and bites into the still slightly unripened exterior.

Talking isn’t really a Sasuke thing, not now anyways. After three bites, Sasuke pulls a small, frayed photograph from his pocket. He fingers it gently, with care that Sasuke never usually has, before giving it face down to him. For a few seconds it seems like he won’t finish handing the photo to Naruto, his grip tight and eyes already furrowed into a dark glare.

Curious, Naruto turns the photo face up, a tad more force behind it than intended. Sasuke already looks like he’s about to throttle Naruto for his forceful actions, but the obvious way Naruto freezes as he takes in the photograph stills him. It’s definitely not what Naruto would have ever expected. Like ever. Like, for a second he feels like releasing a quick burst of chakra because surely not?

The confession is certainly more jarring when Sasuke follows up with, “I could never love Sakura. So I stopped trying.”

Because apparently, it could and did and is currently happening.

Handing the photo back in stunned silence, Naruto looks up into his best friends eyes. He has a million questions and a few disbelieving expletives to share, but for now he can only let out a strong, hearty laughter.

“I knew it, you so used to check out my ass when we fought, didn’t you?”

Sasuke doesn’t even twitch before he’s let out a swift series of impressive kata that has Naruto jumping back and onto the main road. Unable to contain the mischief he was born with, Naruto pokes his tongue out at Sasuke.

“Naa tell me teme, was taijutsu the only thing he taught you, or do you guys have better exercises together?”

Visibly flustered at the teasing, Sasuke gives him a red-faced glare looking to kill and for the first time in about five years, Naruto is not only late to the office, but he’s also scolded by a bothered Shikamaru and made to fix a whole section of land near his home with his own financial means and a string of clones. It’s the most fun he’s had in years and even though Sasuke vanishes before Shika can even think of binding him, the look of smug satisfaction as he left was a relief.  So talking to Sasuke, not helpful. But knowing his best friends were happy, even if they weren’t happy together? Pretty damn relieving. 

* * *

Hinata is with Boruto when they find out the news, her son runs off as soon as the chunin speaks, fist clenched in tell-tale annoyance. He decimates a singular training pole with only four strikes, six strikes less than it had taken teenage her. Still though Boruto is annoyed and his anger focuses on many

“Shall we go see your father now?” The question is soft, sincere. Boruto turns his nose up at the sound of it.

“I think...I’d rather visit him another day.”

Worried for her son, for the way he so familiarly bottles and represses any emotion he can’t understand, Hinata makes her way forward to lay a hand on his shoulder. He jolts as if burned and her heart breaks silently.

“I’ll go tomorrow, just go if you want to see him so bad.”

“Boru–”

“Just leave Mom!” He pauses, taking a long breathe, “I’m going to visit Sarada, I’ll see you later...I love you.”

Her father, a strict man for all he is a laid back grandparent, would not have hesitated to punish her for such a volatile expression of emotion as a child. Hinata for all she loves her father, has sworn to not raise her kids like she was once raised and for all she is capable of punishing her child, she can’t. Whatever hurt Boruto held, she could only hope he would find healthier alternatives to releasing it. She let him run off and contemplated whether or not to see Naruto. Outside of missions they had no contact, both careful enough to not be in each others visual presence at all.

She had liked the distance, it made whatever time they spent with each other more bearable. Filled with taunts and reproach, sure, but lacking the hurt that had once stained their arguments.

Somehow, without really wanting to, Hinata ends ups tracking her ex-husband down quickly. She hangs around outside the hospital until she can feel Sakura’s eyes boring into her from the hospital room. Despite this, Hinata only moves to the Hospital cafeteria and lingers, through her daughters worried, long visit accompanied by Metal’s meek presence and boisterous voice and Denki’s strong, pulsating thrum of chakra. Hinata, decorated war hero, Anbu and mother to two of Konoha’s most troublesome genin of the last decade, can only linger like a particularly stubborn fungus in the dark corners of the Hospital building. After more than two hours of unsuccessfully trying to feel unaffected by Naruto’s presence, by him being hurt for unknown reasons, Konohamaru finds her.

Her brother in law, ever patient and loyal, only stands by her for a minute, before carefully making his way to where they both knew Naruto laid, unconscious and chakra deprived. She follows, if only for the long, measured look he sends her way. They stay there, smiles only slightly forced, more instinctive pleasantries than looks of substance. Konohamaru, the ever patient and loyal and mischievous husband to her at times no-good little sister, waits only a second before pushing her though the sliding doors with speed and strength she often forgets he possesses.

Now in the bare room of the man she had avoided ardently for months, Hinata could only feel a surge of relief. As she had assumed, he was fine, no outward injuries and chakra depleted but not dangerously so. Relieved, she makes her way forward to hover near Naruto, to actually take in his ashen appearance. Naruto is not skin and bones, but he is certainly thinner, tanner. Has more wrinkles and sunspots than she had initially realised or ever noticed. It struck her suddenly, how old they were.

And they were old, living far past most Shinobi ever could during their childhood. How could she not notice this? Notice the slight, hidden greys peeking through his curtain of blonde? Or even, the receding hairline, so obvious to note now that she actually observed at him. Hinata stared at him as if truly seeing him for the first time in years. How long they had spent becoming accustomed to even the most minute difference. Looking at him now felt like looking at a stranger, she hadn’t noticed so much change in Naruto since he first came back with a growth spurt, an outfit change and a more muscular frame back in their teen early years.

Shikamaru breaks her pensive silence with a harsh glare and a quiet demand.

“Leave Hinata, it’s not like you care.”

It is the first time he has said a word directed to her since she stormed into Naruto’s office many months ago. Her fists clench, but she remains standing tall. Body not even twitching to the side in contemplation.

“Never, presume to know how I feel Shikamaru. Of all people you should know that falling out of love does not mean being unable to care.” The sentence is more telling than she had intended.

Shikamaru stiffens at the implication, eyes narrowing to her as she moves to sits primly. Once, the two had been great friends, able to play shogi and talk at length, with comfortable pauses and the ease of knowing no secrets and tensions could split them apart. That was before Temari, before Shikamaru being the perfect Nara heir and before Hinata leaving one of his best friends. Now only tension lingered between them.

The cold Hyuuga and the indifferent Nara, how times had changed them.

* * *

Together, they sit and say nothing, looking only to Naruto.

Naruto wakes in one of the rare moments she decides to visit alone, his eyes flutter open weak at first, gradually becoming stronger. He takes stock of everything around him shoulders tense, relaxes minutely as his head lulls to her position, then tenses once more.

“ ‘nata?” He queries, voice slurred from disuse.

“Hello, Naruto.” She adds no affection to her voice, but it is a struggle to calm her beating heart when his dopey smile is aimed at her.

“You’re wearing make-up….And you cut your hair,” he notices, eyes still half open.

Fingering the tips of her hair, Hinata nods, face softening.

“Mitsuki wanted to practice with make-up, as did Inojin. And I was in a messy mission the other week.”

Naruto frowns, struggling to sit. “Which mission? What happened? Damn it, how long have I been out,” his voice slides to aggravated.

Any trace of fondness vanishes as Nanadaime finally makes an appearance.

“One week. Shikamaru-kun has been your acting voice while you heal. You expended a lot of chakra, and you haven’t been consuming enough food to sustain your lifestyle.” The disapproval is clear in her voice, he hears it, bristling.

“My lifestyle? You make it sound like I live extravagantly,” his voice is dismissive and chills any warmth she felt.

“I’m merely saying you should worry about yourself more and about everyone else a little less.”

Naruto tenses, feeling the undercurrent of anger staining her voice. Raising his head he lets out a slow, derisive laugh.

“I’m sorry are you trying to tell the Hokage to worry about his village less?"

Rolling her eyes Hinata lets her gaze fall onto his bedside table. This is why they had ceased contact with each other. Nearly eighteen years of arguments had unfolded in the past seven months, every comment turning into too sharp weapons.

“Right, of course. I was only concerned with you caring for your village too much, kami be damned if I actually cared about someone I married.”

“Well you sure as fuck didn’t care about him when you decided to leave him,” his voice is all venom.

“Maybe if he gave me a _reason_ to stay, I _would_ have stayed,” shaking her head she looked down.

“Right, eighteen years of love and devotion wasn’t enough reason.”

“Oh please, love and devotion to who. The Leaf? The Hokage post? Cause it sure wasn’t eighteen years of devotion to me.”

Naruto shook his head, fist clenching.

“When did you get so bitter Hinata? When did I become the bad guy in your life...Didn’t we have it all? Damn it Hinata! I gave you everything and for what!? For you to become this- this crazy person out to prove the whole world hates her?”

Hinata scoffs and when the anger doesn’t dissipate she stands swiftly, pacing the length of his room.

“I can’t believe you would– Gave me- hah- Gave me everything? What did you give me Naruto? Money? Status? A manor? I _had_ all of that growing up and I never wanted it, I never wanted to be the Hokage’s wife! I- I never wanted to fall asleep waiting up for you, or constantly being on edge because someone wanted to hurt my family. I didn’t want to grease up to politicians I didn’t like or spend my days being a dutiful lady of the house! Newsflash Naruto, I spent my whole childhood doing that!”

“If you didn’t want to be the Hokage’s wife then why did you marry me?!? That’s always been my goal Hinata, always!”

Laughing bitterly, Hinata shakes her head before catching Naruto’s eyes in an intense stare-off. Their anger is shared, loud, an ugly feeling lingering between the two.

“I didn’t marry the Hokage. And I never wanted to. I always wanted to marry Uzumaki Naruto. I never realised that some day, he’d stop being the guy I wanted to be married to though.”

“I’m the same person Hinata! You keep talking about me like I’ve changed, like. Like I’m someone else, but I’m not. I’m Uzumaki Naruto and I’m also The Seventh Hokage and I don’t know why you keep separating the two.”

“That might be true now, but you haven’t always been the Hokage. And you haven’t always thought like one. And maybe the Nanadaime is more responsible, more level-headed than his younger self. Maybe he’s got more trauma than he had as a kid too, but the Nandaime? I don’t know him. Not really.”

Hinata’s voice is soft, concise. She speaks to him like she did at the start of their marriage, without barriers, baring her all to him.

“Do I know he’s strong? Yes. Do I know that he will always put his village’s well-being first? Of course. Without a shadow of doubt. There’s no one in the entire world I trust with my village more than him.”

“But…I don’t know what his favourite ramen bowl is, if he still eats it with extra chashu or without bamboo shoots. I don’t know what he does when he’s not in the office. I don’t know if he’s ever truly happy, because there’s this weight on his shoulder he won’t let me bare, and sometimes I wonder if he thinks I’m stupid or weak because why else will he act like he doesn’t need my help? And does the Nanadaime trust me? Because it never felt like it, because he always gave me low ranking missions and always plastered a fake smile on his face when I wanted to help him. And when he said I love you? I never believed him. Because if the Nanadaime loved me, then he would care about what I thought right,” her words stutter and tie, wrought with nerves, “, if-if—If he loved me, he would notice when I was unhappy right? And if he for some reason could _not_ notice me being unhappy then he would try to help me keep everything together if I asked right? He would weed the gardens with me when he promised to and show up to our children’s birthdays and- and fuck! He’d take me out for our damn wedding anniversary like he promised, right? And if he loved me, truly loved me, then wouldn’t I know it without a doubt?”

Naruto had started crying several sentences ago, shaking his head profusely as he bit down on his lips to keep in his sobs. It takes a while for him to speak again, but still he keeps his head shaking. As if the very action could assert his refusal to take the blame being shoved onto him.

“You- you- you can’t do that Hinata. It’s not fair, it’s not fair damn it! You can’t say trying to please everyone is a bad thing, can’t tell me I can’t shoulder the weight of the world when it’s very well been the thing I was practically born to do! So, so I miss a birthday or two. No one cared about my birthday until I was thirteen, the kids should know being born isn’t magical and that you can’t always celebrate, no matter how bad you want to. And yeah, maybe I don’t notice things. Maybe I get a bit unappreciative, that doesn’t mean we have to split up. Because there’s this thing, we normal people do, where we _talk_ about problems that _can_ be fixed, okay? And okay, maybe I keep my problems to myself but the thing is, those aren’t fixable problems. You can’t make more than thirty years worth of trauma vanish in a conversation or two, but more dates? More conversations? Those are easy problems Hinata! They’re the type of things we can fix!”

“I don’t want to fix you Naruto! And I don’t want to fix us...I just. I just wanted to stand next to you. Wanted to be strong for you and with you in anyway you needed. But you never even let me try.”

  
“....”  


“You were my husband sure. But was I your wife? Your equal who held you up when you were down? Or was I your trophy?”

His laugh is wet, shoulders shaking as he cried into the warm palms of his hands, “Damn it Hinata you were never a trophy. You were always holding me up, okay? Even if you didn’t know it, you were always helping me stand up. And I am so, so sorry you couldn’t feel that.”

Hinata storms out, unable to listen to her ex husband any longer. Together the two shatter at the emotional riot they had experienced, the hot explosion of hatred and the cold flashes of pain wounding them long after the confrontation.

* * *

Himawari had been purposely ignoring her mother’s mere presence, but she can’t deny that in the two weeks since her Pop’s woke up the absence of her Mama’s cool, crisp chakra had been raw and jarring. Her frustration bleeds into more pranks, nothing that they could ever bother Papa with, because she never wants him to over work himself ever again, but pranks not so subtle that they wouldn’t recognise her handiwork. While everyone knows one way or another she is responsible, no one has the proof.

Denki and Metal don’t come around so much, busy preparing with Udon-nii for the upcoming chunnin exams. Shikado takes her cloud watching on bad days when their sensei is being a bigger asshole than usual and today just felt like one of those bad days where cloud watching was the thing to do. Unfortunately Shikado and in extension Hima have no claim to the tree on the hill near the monument, so she senses the intruder far before he arrives.

Inojin drops in with a stiff, short hello, eyes directed to the sky and a notable gap between them.

“Hi,” she responds to his presence lightly.

Inojin has never really been her friend, too awkward to talk to her for longer than a minute about anything non-shinobi or Boruto related. It seems she’s wrong though, because after a very long gap, Inojin breaks their silence to instigate a pretty serious conversation.

“Did you know my parents haven’t been together for about a year, maybe longer?”

Her head swivels so fast she swears it might fall off.

“They tried to keep it a secret from me, I don’t think Kaa-chan is ready to face the backlash of who she’s dating just yet. And I don’t think Tou-san can hurt her for real, but they never talk outside of dinner time. And even then dinner is tense and Tou-san leaves dinner early all the time. I haven’t told them I know yet. I caught them arguing about how he doesn’t want to keep lying and isn’t she the one who always said that love should be honest, real...Everything made sense when a bit after that I walked by Sarada’s and saw my mum and Sakura-san kissing.”

Himawari stays quiet, can’t fathom why he would tell her all of this.

“I keep trying to tell Boruto that I know. Know what it’s like to have parents who aren’t together anymore, but each time I try to tell him I end up choking and being eerily silent. I guess I don’t want him to feel sorry for me, or like I want anything from him. I’m alright with it. I found out just after we took the Genin exam so I’ve accepted it by now, mostly.”

“How? How can you accept that she’s cheating, basically? That she’s breaking his heart. She made a promise didn’t she! To your dad! Your family! She was supposed to be there wasn’t she, and now what, she can just abandon everything like it doesn’t matter!”

“I don’t see it that way,” he says hugging his knees.

Hima balls her hands into fist, waiting for whatever piece of wisdom he could share that would make her less angry. What could possibly make things alright?

“My mum wasn’t happy, I knew that and it wasn’t hard to see. And sometimes she still isn’t happy, but if seeing Sakura-san makes her happier, like I know it does, then it’s okay. Was I mad? Yeah. Does it hurt to know that they’re hiding things from me? Definitely. But when it comes down to it, I want them to be happy and I think, with how they’ve been acting and all, that they could definitely be happy. I just need to wait it out.”

It’s hard, to consider her mother’s happiness when she can’t even see it. When splitting up had only hurt her parents more, made them into meek, hurt, angry versions of themselves. Mother leaving had only fractured their frail family, but with the wistful way Inojin talked guiding her, Himawari takes a second to wonder what her mother staying would have done. Would Papa have been less broken up? Sure. Would she be less angry at everyone and Boruto less sad? Definitely. But staying would not have made them happier, Boruto would probably get madder at Papa, Papa would never have tended to their garden or had any time for her and her brother and Mama would have stayed, resenting Papa and being the same bitter, absent lady she had become in the last few months of her parents marriage. Leaving had broken the Uzumaki family, sure, but with perspective finally given to the youngest member of the family, Himawari realised staying would not have fixed their family. Even with this logic rooting itself to her mind, Hima can’t find it in her to fully let go of her anger, it stays an awful, festering feeling at the darkest corner of her heart, but it loosens its grip. Ever-present, but not gnawing.  

Inojin still isn’t her friend and they don’t suddenly become friends in the duration of this conversation, but when he stays and lays himself beside her she doesn’t tense or make an excuse to leave. They stay watching clouds until the warmth and the shining sun coaxes the duo to sleep. Until hours later, Sarada rudely awakens them with threats to Inojin about missing training and long, frustrated looks at the sleepy genin

* * *

Kiba lays arms wound around her waist, body radiating heat as Shino lets one pale hand rest against her own arm, entwining their fingers. 

Seven months of sharp barbs, long venomous looks and Hinata could say with the worst sort of clarity, that she still loved Naruto.

Still considered him important enough to cry after and argue with in her head for hours on end. Still felt the sort of pain from actually arguing with him too intimately for someone who had decided not to care. Seven months and nearly a year after she had first started distancing herself and Hinata still could not actually fall out of love with Naruto. She could scream at him until they are both black and blue, could swear to everyone that he means nothing to her with a face so impossible to read they would think she too Anbu to ever reintegrate into normal society. For all she could and had tried to convince herself, Naruto still held part of her heart. And she hated him for it. And she hated herself for it.

“Huh, you’d think I’d have stopped coming to you guys in tears of frustration about Naruto after finally marrying the idiot, right?”

Kiba chuckles while Shino makes a short noise of agreeance.

“I had hoped,” Shino stated seriously.

Of the three it was Shino who least tolerated being unhappy because of the one you love, though it was also Shino who had lived through that heartbreak in the most quiet, most unknown break-up to occur in their generation, the confusing and interweaving split between Ino and Sai and Sasuke and Sakura included. Hinata had seen so much of Shino’s naive hope in herself this last year. Had remembered vividly holding Shino’s hand through the slow drifting apart to the sudden, jarring split and subsequent marriage of Shikamaru and Temari. Had seen him reflected in herself with half-hearted excuses that turned to radio silence as she stopped finding justifications for Naruto’s actions and merely resigned herself to his behaviour. Remembered being so angry as Shino debased himself by putting up with Shika’s somewhat public courting of Temari and shameful nights he spent with Shino wrapped in bedsheets. She can understand Shino’s anger, but still it’s hard to tell him the truth, that could she love Naruto any less she’d have done that months ago. Instead she lets the knowledge that someway, somehow she had managed to leave the man she still loved and though it made the ache she had felt for the last few years lessen, she can’t tell either of the two that she wants this parting. It was what was best, she knows, she trusts, she has to believe in– because the divorce needs meaning– but despite being what was best for her, it feels no more right now than it had when she had finally drafted the divorce paper, heart hollow, empty, wrung out and raw.

* * *

Weeks pass, Naruto gets better, Himawari hates less and Boruto silently lets go, too tired to force his broken family together. Today is a happy day, the three Uzumaki living at the manor had been roused by the sun just as dawn struck, geared themselves up with warm, light clothes and wide-brimmed hats 

Himawari stood in the garden, a sunhat covering most of her face and a small, content grin inching over her face. Boruto threw weeds at her every so often, pretending to look dismayed when they don’t end up in the pile next to Papa, while she kept ‘accidentally’ dropping compost near him. Naruto waters the gardens in the early morning light, endlessly amused as his kids bickered with looks rather than words. So focused on each other, the trio don’t pay mind to the figure walking to them.

She is careful in her steps, hesitant almost, carrying a picnic basket that made herself look almost diminutive, for all she was of average height and weight. It hangs off of her sweats covered arm, her grip delicate but firm.

None of the gardening trio notice her, her presence too familiar to feel different. The chakra blends into the mix of their home, seamlessly, as if it had never left. Her steps are too quiet, too many years spent an active ninja. When she is so close she can almost embrace her whole family, for all they stand scattered about the garden, Hinata coughs. The morning lull of birds and the quiet hum of a barely awoken village do little to swallow the sound. They turn as one, Boruto with a wide, disbelieving grin, Himawari with a scowl dark and wary and hopeful, Naruto lastly, expression dumb and blank.

“I made breakfast,” is all she can offer, basket raised.

Eyes flickering, Hinata avoids the stares of her family to instead take in the garden she and her husband had abandoned long ago. It was thriving, fruits and vegetable growing just barely, too early to have fully bloomed for the new season. A row of watermelon, corn and strawberries still too small, too green or not yet grown enough for the change into Summer season. She had known of course that they were tending to it, Boruto proudly bringing homemade side dishes from weekends with his father, but to see it is different. Makes it more real, makes it hurt a little harder. Hinata’s breath catches as her eyes come to a stand still. In her hurry to not meet her family’s gaze, Hinata spies it. The delicate, white flowers. The vivacious green petals. It sits potted on the deck as if the spot had always been its home. The bonsai is full and alive and with a sudden ache in her heart, Hinata faces her ex husband. Naruto has replaced the dumb look with a soft stare, he looks beautiful, shadowed and soft and human for the first time in years. 

The moment breaks as he forgets about the hose in his hands, it shoots upwards spraying him in the face and soaking his clothes.

He thinks it is worth it though, the soaked clothes and the buddying embarrassment, if only for the tinkle of laughter spilling from Hinata’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> There might be more to this series, like I know more happens after, but I honestly couldn't write more to go with it right now so... until I figure out what happens next lol


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